


The Blue Door

by DiscoTrek



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Again, Anger, F/M, Face Slapping, Fighting, Fluffy, I like it when they fight, One Shot, Sexy Times, Sneaking, TARDIS rooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:51:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3213152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscoTrek/pseuds/DiscoTrek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Doctor won't reveal his secrets, Clara has to find them out for herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blue Door

Clara looked away from her book as soon as she heard the gentle snoring beside her. She smiled at her devious plan that worked so effectively, it was almost comical.  
She knew that if she were to suggest a relaxed evening at her house, the Doctor would eventually get so bored, he'd fall asleep. She knew that he'd be out cold for at least an hour, allowing her all the time she needed.  
His head slumped to his chest and remained still. She pulled herself gently from the couch and reached into her jacket to retrieve the TARDIS key that she had pocketed earlier that day from the pages of the The Time Traveller's Wife on his shelf when he was distracted.  
She listened to his gentle snoring until she inserted the key, pushed open the door, and entered, closing it gently behind her.  
There was something so powerful about being in the TARDIS by herself. She felt like, perhaps, she was the Doctor, and it was her past lives that were known and loved and feared throughout the universe. She stepped lightly, hating to make sound when every step in the TARDIS, without the Doctor with her, was stolen.  
She walked around the console room for a moment before moving on to her real goal. She wasn't sure just how much time she had. She walked past the swimming pool, past the library, past the television and Mardi Gras room and past the second library. Her room was in the opposite direction, in the Eastern hall, so she had never walked so far down this particular corridor.  
She tried to think of other clues for the room's location he may have unintentionally given her, besides their brief conversation:

"So, I know that you don't sleep much, but you do sleep sometimes, yeah?" Clara asked nonchalantly. The Doctor's eyes rolled as he wrote some mathematical mumbo jumbo on his blackboard.  
"Yes. I also eat and breathe. Very good detective skills." He replied thickly.  
"So, if you sleep, you must have a bedroom." She said, disregarding his sarcasm.  
"Of course I have a room. This is my TARDIS." He replied in a tone that suggested that had been a stupid question.  
"Has anyone, besides you, seen your room?" He seemed to tense after her words, but his face remained changeless and calm.  
"One or two people." He said casually. She tried to push that answer from her mind, suddenly thinking she'd rather not know. "What's it like? Do you have your diary and your boy-band posters in there?" She teased, leaning against the railing of the console room's balcony.  
"Where else would I keep them?" He teased back gently, though she could tell the subject was still a bit touchy for him.  
"So where is it?" She asked finally. He scribbled away distractedly at the board. The sound of the chalk was starting to hurt both of their ears.  
"It's at the end of the Western hall by the- Why do you need to know?" He asked, resting the chalk in the open spine of the book he was reading. "Just curious... Can I see it sometime?" She knew this was a long shot, but she thought she'd at least ask if it was a possibility. His confused expression relaxed as he turned back to the board and picked up the chalk.  
"Out of the question." He grumbled, continuing his equation.  
"Why?" Clara whined, wanting to annoy him into giving in.  
"It's private! I don't go barging into your room!" He argued, throwing his hands up, though he wasn't facing her.  
"That is just blatantly untrue. You park the TARDIS in my bedroom constantly, and you just barged into my TARDIS bedroom last week because you couldn't find your umbrella!" She shrieked, leaning forward. He turned to her in time for her to see his eyes shift.  
"Well it WAS raining." He responded quickly.  
"I was half-naked!" She shouted back, folding her arms. He shook his head and turned back around.  
"My room is completely off limits. You might as well forget that it even exists." He muttered again. Clara exhaled loudly enough for him to hear, causing him to turn around with more seriousness in him.  
"I mean that, Clara." He said forcefully. There was warning in his eyes, and she knew then, he would never show it to her.  
"Understood." She murmured, making eye contact with the bookshelf rather than him. 

That was three weeks prior to Clara's plan. Her feet continued down the Western hallway, peeking in mysterious rooms, but trying not to get distracted by them. She had to reach the end of the hall quickly.  
She found herself picturing what his room would be like. She imagined a ballroom type place, possibly with a fountain in the center. Maybe there would be a vast garden, like his own personal Versailles. She smiled giddily as she approached, until her eyes met a door.  
She had reached the end without even realizing. The door was different from others on the TARDIS. It was like the door to a house on Earth, with a bronze mail slot and handle. It was painted a deep blue, almost like the blue of the outside of the TARDIS.  
Her feet approached eagerly until she had the handle in her grasp. Once she was closer, she could see a doorbell on the wall beside the handle. Small stickers that were usually used for house numbers were placed below it, spelling out a word:  
"Ponds".  
It seemed almost sad to her, but she couldn't figure out why. She shrugged off the feeling and turned the handle until the door opened easily, making her wonder why it wasn't locked and more hidden away, like everything else the Doctor had. It was almost like the TARDIS wanted her to see the room. She entered the dark space and brushed her hands on the wall until she found a light switch.  
When the enormous amount of bluish white bulbs that hung from a million wires lit, she felt unprepared for what she saw.  
The room was much smaller than she had expected, but it was still about the size of her entire apartment.  
The walls were white, but they glowed slightly blue under the lights. The carpet was a white shag that cushioned her steps. She slipped her feet out of her ankle boots and let her toes mingle with the cozy floor. The layout was very asymmetrical and about ten bookshelves lined one entire wall.  
She walked in further, digging her toes into the furry carpet with each step. His bed was near the bookshelves and was no bigger than a queen-size. She walked over to it and brushed her hand against the bright red sheets that felt icy cold.  
She pulled her fingers back and looked at his shelves again. All of the books seemed to be in a different language. She wondered why the TARDIS wasn't translating them, and then realized it was because they were in the language of the time lords. Her eyes went down every shelf, stopping at the fifth shelf. Amongst the books, there were picture frames.  
Clara scanned them for any familiar faces, but all she recognized was him, in all of his past lives with others that he looked happy with. She smiled at the joy they had all brought him. "Old softie..." She whispered endearingly.  
She had almost finished looking until she suddenly found herself in one of the photos. It stood on its own shelf on the bookcase beside the one where the rest of them sat.  
She had completely forgotten about that picture. It wasn't taken on Earth, she remembered. It was a strange little planet famous for its stage productions and dramas. A traveling photographer had taken their picture for free because they had helped him find his missing mother-uncle. She had so much fun on that trip.  
Clara dwelled on the picture. In it, the Doctor's arm rested on her shoulders as she held the fingers that dangled limply that asked gently to take them. She hadn't even realized he cared about that picture. She was the one who wanted a copy.  
She laughed, moving on like she was in a museum, taking everything piece by piece and learning as much as she could about it.  
Next, there was a large dresser at the end of his shelves. She opened it urgently and rummaged with her eyes. He had so many bowties, knick knacks, toffees, credits, an old blue and white recorder, and many other unnamables. She shook her head in amusement and turned towards the jukebox she had spotted on the way in. The Doctor was leaning his arm on it.

"Do continue. Don't let me stop you." He remarked darkly. Her eyes widened in shock. She hadn't even heard him come in. Her hands began to tremble and she could feel her entire face blush under his unforgiving stare. "My diary is just over there if you want to rip a few pages out for a keepsake." He added, pointing to the next shelf she was going to get to. What did she get wrong? How did he found out? She had only been 40 minutes at the very most. Her mouth opened reluctantly to speak. "How did you know I was in here?" She asked.  
He grimaced as if her question disgusted him. "The TARDIS and I are psychically linked, but there are rooms that are more a part of me than others. This room, and the main console room, have the deepest connections." He answered in a withdrawn, businesslike way. Clara sighed thinking how she should have thought of that. She took a step towards him, trying to think of a way to make this better. A nervous smile flashed on her face, which he answered with the deepest frown imaginable. "I'm sorry. I am really sorry. I just let my curiosity get the best of me. I didn't do this to hurt you or take anything, I just-"  
"Didn't want to listen." He finished coldly. She put her hands on her hips and looked down at the floor, trying to dig herself out of feeling buried. "Well, you didn't exactly give me a reason why you didn't want me in here." She said defensively.  
"My saying so is reason enough!" He yelled, startling her. Clara's strength faltered under his raised voice. Her eyes fell to the ground in shame. "I ...realize I should have listened, but there's nothin that seems secretive in here. It just looks like you, and I see you everyday!" She said, feeling wise in her words. The Doctor laughed, but Clara could see that he was furious. He rubbed his head roughly and walked over to the shelf where she stood.  
"I have never met a human who minds their own business, but I still make the mistake of letting them in..." His frustrated smile disappeared when her looked down at her. "You just don't know when to quit and you don't respect boundaries!" He shouted, pointing his finger at her. She backed away from him and scoffed in disbelief.  
"Respect boundaries?! We've been through too much for you to play this card. We are friends! Wether you like it or not, we are closer than this. I'm not your coworker! And I am certainly not your employee!!" She demanded, now pointing her finger at him.  
"It would be cheaper to hire an employee from the emotional damage you've cost me!" He shouted, getting close to her small face.  
"What emotion!? You're like a blank sheet of parchment! Sometimes I make you angry just so I know what you're feeling!" She shouted back, getting close to his face. His eyes shifted to her mouth and then back to her eyes. "That's exactly your problem! You're ruled by your emotions and you make mistakes because of it! I should have guessed you wouldn't listen to me! What else can I expect from a foolish child!?" Her fury built to an astronomical level before she raised her hand and slapped his cheek with as much force as she could. "How dare you?" She asked, feeling a tear fall on her cheek.  
He turned back to her with a fiery glare. She raised her hand to slap him a second time, but he seized her wrists to stop her almost as an instinct. She could see that he was just as enraged as she was, and then his grip tightened.  
His eyes were frozen in their rage, like he had turned to stone while grabbing her, dooming her to be imprisoned in his cold clutches. Something was happening deep within his mind that she could not see in his painfully statuesque face. "Doctor, you're hurting me." She said more quietly, shocked at the firmness he was using. She had seen him angry many times before, but he was never violent like she was, and she couldn't imagine he would ever show his anger physically. Though the pain in her wrists was forcing her to change her opinion on that quickly.  
His grasp was like a vice and he didn't seem to respond to her pleading eyes. She tugged at her arms, but she remained immobilized by him. He was stronger than his narrow body let on.  
"Doctor," she nearly shrieked, attempting to take her hands back, but then he shifted. Her wrists were behind her back. His chest was right against hers. His face just inches away.  
Her breathing suddenly became tight. She suspected that he was angry of course, but something else, besides the rage, was very present. She could feel it now, pulsating through him.  
He wanted to proceed with his instincts, that much was certain, but it looked like he wasn't quite sure how to, until he lowered his face and met her lips with his, hard. The force of impact and the complexity of the action would have knocked her over, had he not been holding to her wrists still.  
His hands moved up her arms and grasped them, surely bruising her flesh. She cried out in pain against his lips so he released his grip somewhat, but not completely. Her heart was galloping, drowning out her thoughts and making her feel afraid and invigorated at the same time.  
His open mouth struggled with hers like he was fighting with her, and she was fighting back. She wanted to be able to touch him too, but she was still being held back. She couldn't explain how his grasp could be so unwanted one second, and then craved the next. He was challenging her.  
She broke free from his lips with a gasp and looked into his eyes. A new kind of rage had taken him over.  
"What are you doing?" She breathed, looking at his glistening lips. He licked them and exhaled sharply.  
"Being ruled by my emotions." He whispered back, crashing their lips together again and backing her up until her back slammed against the wall behind her. She coughed at the impact and the Doctor slid his hands around her waist, and then her ribs, grabbing at the fabric of her sweater. Clara's hands flew to his hair. She grabbed at it and pulled on it mercilessly making him growl and bite her lip.  
She began to tug and rip at his clothes. He tried to smack her hands away, but she kept trying until she finally had his jacket off and tossed it quickly to the floor, leaving him in his button up, white shirt.  
His lips separated from hers again as one of his hands had a fistful of her sweater material in it. "Take it off." He demanded, helping her pull it quickly, leaving her in her bra and a skirt.  
She leaned closer to him and kissed his jawline before focusing her attention on his shirt buttons. She undid each one and tugged the fabric off his shoulders like it was all one motion.  
Her lips and hands instantly went to his chest, but her tilted her head up sharply and kissed her only once before grabbing one of her arms again and leading her to the bed. He pulled her in front of him and then threw her down forcefully so she bounced against the mattress. The sheets felt even colder against her bare back and arms. The Doctor kneeled on the bed and began to crawl over her slowly. One of his hands glided up her thigh as he moved closer.  
She attempted to breathe normally while his other hand brushed up her torso and slowly wrapped around her neck. He looked down at her with his hand so easily encircling her petite throat. He could, no doubt, feel her erratic pulse, though she was far from afraid. She knew him. She trusted him more than anyone.  
A quick smile played at the edge of her mouth while they stared at each other. His index finger moved up to her cheek and pushed her head so it would tilt to the side. He leaned in, assaulting her with his hot breath until his tongue pressed against her skin where his fingers had been. She squirmed at the feeling.  
He scooted closer and planted his knees on either side of her hips. His toes tickled the sides of her legs. She grinned as she realized he had taken his shoes off too. His hands pressed into the bed as he lifted his head to look down at her again. The pupils of her large eyes were dilated and her chest rose and fell in time with his own.  
"I'm sorry... I can stop." He said with a trace of embarrassment in his voice. Clara reached her hand up to his chest and slip it down to his stomach, stopping at the top of his trousers. The Doctor's hands squeezed the bright red sheets and his eyes attempted to follow her hand. She bent one of her legs up and placed the bottom of her foot against the bottom of his, mingling their thighs. He gasped as she tugged on his pants, pulling him closer. "No, you can't." She hissed.

**********************************

The remnants of their clothes surrounded the bed. The Doctor's arm supported Clara's head as she laid beside him. Their legs were tied together in a complex knot while their hands clasped each other in between their clinging bodies. The bed that was still made underneath them made their exposure even more freezing, but they didn't dare budge.  
"The fabric is called chill-wool. It was designed on Earth in 2037, I believe. It's so you could always have crisp, cool sheets in the summertime, but I like them all the time." He said, swiping his foot against the fabric. She laughed. "You do feel a bit warmer than a typical human does." He smiled and brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it.  
Clara stared up at the ceiling for a while, counting the hundreds of bulbs that hung from above. The Doctor disconnected their hands and traced the line of her breast with his fingers. "Doctor," Clara asked. "Mhmm?" The Doctor replied, half listening. She turned to face him and rested her head in her hand. He mirrored her position.  
"I don't mean to bring this up again... but why did you not want me to see this place?" Her expression was slightly apologetic, but she wasn't about to let it go. He couldn't hide it and say it was a matter of privacy anymore, especially after what they had just done. The Doctor sighed deeply and began to play with the hair that draped over her shoulder.  
"Only one other person had ever set foot in this room besides me, and now you. She was a great love of mine... and for a while, I thought of this room as hers, and not mine anymore. I suppose that's what was stopping me, though I shouldn't have let it." He spoke softly. Clara nodded in understanding, but she couldn't help a twinge of sadness appearing in her eyes.  
She couldn't bear to think of him loving someone else, especially if he loved her still. His hand lifted her chin so she would look him in the eye. He seemed to read her mind when their gazes met.  
"My most personal and treasured things that I've gathered through my very long existence are in this room... But you are by far, the most precious. Hundreds of years ago, for me at least, I did love the woman I mentioned, but she is living a happy life elsewhere. She was never supposed to be mine, but you are." He brushed his fingers through her hair and leaned over to kiss her.  
She embraced him and pushed him into his back. Her skin burned against him. "Clara," he whispered helplessly under her touch. They tangled once more, their bodies almost glowing under the tinted blue, white lights.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted his room to be the colors of the Union Jack, hence the blueish lights, white walls, and red bed... Don't ask me why. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
